


Cambric Relations

by Serotiny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aberforth is not the largest fan of Dumbledore, Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Love(ish), Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Late 1890s, Strained Relationships, Typical Life in Godric's Hollow, mentions of hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serotiny/pseuds/Serotiny
Summary: The days leading up to the final breaking of his family were unremarkable. There was no auspicious sign or foreboding portent seen days in advanced. It, in fact, could hardly be called an ending. After all, Aberforth neither heard the bang nor the whimper.





	Cambric Relations

**Author's Note:**

> So, I checked Harry Potter wikia and noticed the timeline might be slightly skewed when Albus Dumbledore graduated and when Aberforth was still at school. Nonetheless, just go with the thought that Albus Dumbledore spent a year at home taking care of Ariana, while Aberforth was still in school. It was the summer of Aberforth's fifth year that things fell apart.

Despite actively trying to not be clichéd, Aberforth returned home on a dark and stormy night. Not that the night's weather was particularly notable; the wizard had, in fact, often returned home on his own. There had not been a familiar face waiting at the train station since the beginning of his first year. The trek to this newer home should hardly account for any change in ritual. Even the burial of their mother would not change things.

The young wizard hefted the cloak higher; he could already feel the water soaking through the outer layer. The hand-me-down cloth was worn from a combination of wizardry and rough-tumble antics. Aberforth efficiently clamped down on the thought that their mother would have at least mended the holes, if not bought a new better-fitting cloak.

He marched quickly past the darkened storefronts, the owners likely already in their beds asleep. The cobblestone on the main road had tiny rivulets forming, creating a lattice of silvery water. He took a sharp turn down an alley and used a trashcan to hop a wooden fence. This well-memorized path of turns and twists eventually led out of the village. Aberforth crossed the rickety bridge over the flooded creek. It was at that point that he saw the manor.

Further still, the old house stood recalcitrant, alone in the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. Of course, the domicile was not to blame for its desolate nature; over the years, its neglectful appearance fell to the shoulders of it unobservant and young owners. If an outsider were asked to describe the atmosphere of place, it would be hard to find a general consensus.

The house, it was generally agreed, over a cup of Ogden's Old Firewhisky at the local tavern, was a peculiar beast. Locals could not explain the sense of foreboding they perpetually felt every time they saw the house. True, the house seemed to be slumped to one side, but much stranger leaning of houses were not usually regarded as portentously. It could not be the shingles on the upper story; they were all present if not a bit worn and muddy. Neither could the paint coating the house be to blame; it was an evenly applied if not a little old-fashioned hue. The hedges surrounding the place were arguably unruly high, almost as if the gardeners were ignorant of the appropriate height. Perhaps it was just the accumulation of all these little bits and pieces that made the infrequent visitor to Godric's Hollow avoid the outskirts of the small village.

If fences made for good neighbors, perhaps reclusiveness offered the most benevolent kind.

It was this atmosphere that Aberforth purposely sojourned to. The porch also dark, just like a cavernous mouth of some great beast, creaked as the wizard shuffled past the rocking chair. He threw the cloak on its back and began feeling for the musty lantern often placed underneath.

He was waylaid by the bright flash of light and the accompanying gargantuan sound of thunder. Aberforth flinched so drastically at the sound that he almost missed the immediate wailing echoing from indoors. The front door flew open as the gangly legs tumbled inside. A strange picture.

His eldest brother, Albus, had a black eye. Despite the apparent pain, he was trying to appease the person standing ramrod straight in the middle of the living room. The person, his sister with auburn hair, was almost a perfect copy of their deceased mother. She wore a smart dress and pressed petticoat. Her cheeks were a lovely shade of crimson and her pale arched neck spoke of a beauty soon to bloom. Of course, all of this was obscured by the utter fear in the timid azure eyes. She did not see her recently returned brother; instead, her eyes skittered meanderingly, only seeing some unknown specters in the room. After another great crack, her hands reached toward her face and raked downwards. A trail of blood followed.

Aberforth's mouth was gaping open but Albus, who had clearly had greater practice, sprang into action and tried to bind her arms with his hands. Ariana struggled with a wild abandon and with a squalling scream, kicked his shins in syncopations. Without time to unconsciously appreciate the pained face on Albus's face, Aberforth tried to help.

"Geroff her!" He shoved his older brother to the side. Couldn't he see how binding her bothered her infinitely more than the lightning and thunder? He loosely gripped her shoulders—just enough to remind her of his presence, not enough to frighten her.

Aberforth belatedly remembered a little ditty his mum hummed whenever she did housework around the house. He bit his lip. How exactly did that tune go? Already her down-to-earth presence had begun to fade from his memory. Did her apron pockets where she stored her garden herbs smell of peppermint or rosemary? Were hands callused from the tedious task of running a household and an animated daughter or were they still able to retain their soft touch? Sometimes, the blurring of memory and the removal of all its hard edges really bothered Aberforth. Especially when he was awake at night and staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom. Coming home just worsened it.

"Aberforth? Thank God you're home!" Albus was too relieved at the presence of a calming force to be appalled at the brute force. "This storm is driving Ariana mad!" He indignantly indicated his reddened ears. Aberforth muffled his snort—he had had worse wounds from second year bullies. Instead:

"She's not mad!" He took a crooning tone, "I'm a bit scared of thunder too." Ariana leaned into his shoulder and began trembling again. Her eyes hardly registered her two older brothers.

"Well, I am glad you arrived when you did. I tried to feed her some supper, but, once the storm came in, she turned into a frightful mess—"

"Leave us alone."

Albus paused.

"I can handle her alone." No matter how hard he tried, he could hardly prevent the possessive tone that creeped in. Albus already made his position on the taking care of their sister terribly clear. True, he refused to reveal her to their neighbors. In that one regard, the brothers were unanimous—no one would interfere in the Dumbledore affairs.

His dismissive words seemed to transform Albus's face; some sort of distance pervaded his handsome features and he gave a small nod. "I am sure you can comfort her better." He flicked his wand to better light the house and after ascertaining that she had truly calmed down, ascended the stairs. Probably wants to do some more experiments to win more awards.

His attitude regarding Ariana was always telling. He did well, Aberforth supposed, to hide it from her. He would still dutifully dress her and feed her and take care of her. She still looked nice if not better than she would have if their mum was still alive. Albus's pride and efficiency made sure of that. No, his tell was always in the dissatisfaction behind the bright sapphire curtains. With the authority of a god himself, he had measured his siblings worth and they were both found wanting. As if Aberforth wasn't good enough. As if Ariana wasn't good enough.

Maybe he hid it behind a veneer of intelligence, a façade of gentility, a mask of duty, but he had always believed his older brother to be a bit mad. Aberforth, in his heart of hearts, could completely understand if Albus wanted to abandon them. He had already come to accept that his heart would never be willing to undergo complete isolation from the wizarding world. As people had said before, the eldest Dumbledore was too bright to not to drive the future of their world with his own wand. The reluctance to give all the accolades, Aberforth could understand. He might not be the brightest but he definitely caught on quick.

Perhaps, in time, Aberforth could have forgiven him for his desire for attention, the exact attention they had tried to avoid all these years. In time, he would have forgiven him. (He believed, anyways.) It was the lukewarm, the half-heartedness he subjected the rest of his siblings to that was unforgivable. That was pure madness. Who would willingly subject themselves to a cause they did not believe in? Madness must be catching. After all, insanity was not a hard line; it was a sliding scale. He shivered slightly.

"Steady now, Bluebird." He gently, guided her into a standing position. The thunder continued to boom ominously in the background. "Do you trust me?"

His long finger smoothly brushed her hair from the perspiring skin before cupping and covering her delicate ears. Both siblings leaned forward so that their foreheads were brushing each other, Aberforth still had to stoop. They breathed together for five beats. The glazed azure eyes which had not been focused captured his gaze. She gave a faint nod, as if the conversation had not had a long, jarring pause.

He slowly gathered the shawl that had pooled around her ankles. "I learned a new game at school, Ariana," he began conversationally. Never mind that he hadn't played with any mates since before he began to walk to and from the train station by himself. "I know you'll love it."

Mesmerized eyes followed his lips, reading them before trustingly giving a fuller nod. "A brand new game, Aber?"

Though he was old enough to not let it show, his shoulder sagged in relief. Only when Ariana was in her right mind would she use her childhood nickname for him. It would appear that distraction was a possibility.

"Of course, Bluebird. You have to close your eyes." She squeezed them tight. "Spin around twice." She spun. "And let me lead you." She did. And cautiously, he led her down the hall, up the stairs, and to his room to wait out the storm.

* * *

"Am I beautiful, Aber?"

"What?" 

The two siblings were sitting in the small garden behind their house. Despite the endurance the storm had in persisting two nights ago, this morning had very few clouds were in the sky. Even the rain that had tumbled from the heavens had completely vanished in a day's time. This morning had all the bearings of being a lovely one.

Albus had disappeared with the rain by morning; Aberforth was just grateful for small favors.

Adroit hands expertly weaved freshly pulled grass into a basket and began to add pale pink clover flowers, a decoration. They had found when she had work to do, Ariana was less easily flustered. When she was not forced to make eye contact with other people, her words while whimsical, flowed more effortlessly.

A gentle flush to her cheeks indicated a simple but benign curiosity. "I heard a couple of girls talking about this and that earlier this morning. I think they were strolling and enjoying the sun." She continued to weave, bright eyes staring down. "They were so lovely, Aber. One of them had a handsome burgundy blouse and buttons that glittered with flecks of sunlight. Another had this charming way of laughing just so. It reminded me of the wind chimes mother used to put in our windows."

He flinched.

Because she had yet to look up from her work, his sensitive sister did not notice. "All of them had delicate parasols that trembled every time the wind blew. I think that they might have even smelled of English roses..." She was unaware that her brother's eyes were widening in alarm. "And their bells betwixt the handles sounded just like a fairy's bell..."

Finally, she seemed to sense that Aberforth was staring at her. Her eyes slowly drifted towards her brother's vicinity; at his alarmed face, she backtracked immediately. "Oh, they didn't see me, Aber. I hid very carefully. See," she crawled by the bushes on her knees, and mimed peering outwards. Pieces of grass clung to her clothes and he could see the beginning of a mud stain in her stockings due to the position. "I did it just like so. And they were too keen of their own conversation to notice me…"

She crawled back to her brother and placed imploring hands on him. Her breathing hitched. "Please don't be mad." Ariana was practically in tears and began to tremble dangerously. "I promise I won't do it again, just please don't be mad."

Sometimes, just sometimes, Aberforth forgot there was a world outside of the hedges.

He patted her hand with his. "It's alright, Bluebird. It's alright. Just," a pause, "nobody saw you, right?"

"Of course, Aber." She agreed fervently, "I know I am not to be seen by anyone. I would be too frightened if anyone ever saw me." she stopped and squeezed her eyes shut as if to block out a horrible image. Her hands left his to clamp them over her ears. "It's just…just a game, y-you understand, don't you, Aber?"

He understood. Their mother's strict instructions to never let her leave the family manor lest she be taken away meant that Ariana had never none anyone outside the family. Right now, her world consisted of just two other people. One of which was gone for the-quarters of the year and the other which was kind enough but always distant. His sister, the timid mouse that she was, was still inexorably drawn to the outside world. Like a starving man gazing at a feast which did not belong to him, she unconsciously hungered. For love. For relationships. It did not matter. She was ensnared just the same.

No other cage could have trapped her as well as her own taught fears did.

As Ariana continued to barely shake, he leaned over and kissed the tear that teeters on her eyelashes away. "I could never be mad at you."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you, Aber. Thank. I am so glad you're not angry." She reverently put the finished basket in his lap.

She pulled back and crouched. Her finger, was outstretched, almost in a beckoning manner. Long-used to her odd mannerisms, Aberforth said nothing about the abrupt change.

"My face is rather plain and I can't speak as quaintly as they," she continued unassumingly. "Could maybe even I be considered a little pretty too?" Her gaze slowly wandered upward before jumping sporadically down to the ground. Even with as close as she was with her older brother, eye contact from Ariana was incredibly rare.

Sometimes, Aberforth forgot there was a world past the densely planted shrubbery and their little garden world. He overlooked the passage of time even easier. At the age of twelve, gentle curves we're beginning to indicate a breaching of the cusp of womanhood. The night when the storm came in, he had not time to notice things such as her heart-shaped face, always thin. The pale face was framed by a mess of rolling auburn hair that spilled into her lap. Lightly arched eyebrows framed grey azure eyes. Some blades of grass on her face increased rather than detracted the unkempt appeal.

She could, he realized with a start, be considered beautiful.

It hurt. More than when he had been knocked off his broom by that blustery Hufflepuff fellow. More than when he realized he would always be known at Hogwarts as the "Dead-last" Dumbledore. Even more than when his mum had died.

Ariana ought to be preparing for the upcoming school year. She should have been able to talk with the women outside their garden and laughing delightfully. He and Albus should have been fending off the no-good boys attempting to court their sister. She would have pretended to be upset about their bullying but would later good-naturedly admit that she had a crush on a quiet Ravenclaw boy, not the rowdy Griffindors.

Their father would have blinked owlishly over his books and work but would have given everybody a soft smile before delving back into his work. Their mother who worked hard but had help and support from other witches would have laughed and begun to speak in a hurried tone of new hairstyles that would accent her eyes. He would have rolled his eyes as he ate and secretly come up with ways to sabotage any attempts to get the boys attention. Of course he would have collaborated with his brother…

He cursed himself. Worlds of possibilities and should-haves hurt so much. This was why he never let dreams crop up too often.

The wizard swallowed heavily. "My dear sister, you're neither plain nor unclever." He hoped she did not hear the roughness in his voice. "I don't care what those ladies look like. You are who you are; my brilliant and exquisite Ariana."

She blinked dreamily and briefly rubbed her cheek against his face before crouching again. "And you're mine. My one and only Aberforth."

He tried to hold her wandering gaze. "Always, Ari—"

"Aberforth." He glanced up. A tall figure leaned against the back porches column. His wand was levitating one their mother's ornamental rugs. His other hand held a beater. Lunch is almost ready. Come inside and wash up." He then proceeded to ignore them and vigorously beat the rug.

"Well, I suppose we—" His heart skipped a beat.

Her crouched position had paid off. A pale yellow-with-small-flecks-of-brown butterfly had landed on the tip of her fingers. Slender legs were precariously balanced on her pink fingernails. The wings opened and closed in a leisurely motion. A brief breeze ruffled through the garden.

Ariana had stilled completely. Her hands were barely cupped—enough to block the breeze but not too much were the insect would feel trapped. She wanted the butterfly to choose to stay. He could almost see the tip of her pink tongue poking out of her mouth. Her shoulders raised and lowered with exaggerated slowness. ("The better to not scare you with, my dear." "Stop it, Aber, that's not how the story goes." "Sorry.") An errant curl drifted over Ariana's treasure, but she paid it no mind. The butterfly also remained still.

He tamped down on the remembrance of his mother. "I'll…I'll be inside," He finished lamely.

She didn't respond but he could hear her slow enraptured breaths even as he walked into the house to finish fixing their lunch.

* * *

 "Aber, I had a nightmare." The white nightdress hung of the gaunt figure, eerily reminiscent of a ghost. The hair which had shone in the sunlight seemed to have wilted like a flower without light. In a macabre illusion of a wand, a thin, white candlestick leaned haphazardly forward. Wax slowly dripped from the tip to the floor. The young girl herself seemed incognizant of the tense atmosphere permeating the small kitchen. Partially obscured by the doorway, one sleepy azure eye drifted past the two tall and taut men towards her younger brother.

"Will you check under my bed?"

The two figures turned in tandem to stare at him. He forcefully swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. No use dragging Ariana into this. He would deal with his troublesome brother and his friend and tell them exactly where to shove their "Greater Good." He purposefully strode past the pair and grabbed her elbow.

"Sure, Bluebird. I'll see if I can scare those gremlins away." He pulled the candle from her hand and held out his hand as if to escort her. She drolly patted his shoulder. Even as his sister was focused on the stairs, he fixed Albus a this-isn't-over stare over his shoulder. They climbed the creaking staircase and turned the narrow hallways to her nursery.

The brother and sister paused at the entrance; one in fear, the other in anger. He took a few deep breaths before glancing at his sister. He must remain calm, if at least for Ariana's sake. She always became more distressed by arguments. Best that she did not know that her older brother was maniacally, calmly discussing taking over the world. How dare he forget about his home ridden sister in his delusions for conquest? The madness that Aberforth had always known of seemed to have become greater in its frenzied intensity. His friend stoking the flames… "Are you going to check now?"

Jolted out of his daydreams, he gave a curt nod. 'Yes. Can't have those monsters take you now, can I?"

"No. I don't believe they are very nice." She sat down in the doorway as Aberforth checked the closet and behind the rocking chair. This time-held tradition had not dispersed with his studies at Hogwarts. "Aber," she began tentatively, "why do monsters not like people?"

He didn't look at her. "I imagine it is because they hate themselves. If you hate yourself, it is so much easier to hate other things." He lifted the bed curtain and got down on his knees. Nothing but dust underneath. He sneezed.

"What a peculiar reasoning they have."

He stayed silent.

"There we are." He brushed off the dust that had gotten on his clothing from behind the curtains and under the bed. Tomorrow, he would dust in here. "No monsters anywhere to be found and if there were, I'd say I flushed 'em out." He offered his hand to hers and led her to the bed. She promptly got in it and under the covers despite the relatively warm temperatures.

Only her face peeked out from under the covers when she asked, "The loud noises from before... were you and Albus fighting a dragon?" The fingers gripping the sheets, pale before, seemed to lose all signs of blood.

"Of course not," he chided, "You know better; they hate damp weather. It was just me and him having a...disagreement about his…friend. Nothing you should worry yourself about." He sat on the edge of her bed and patted her hand. Leaning over her, he kissed her on the crown of her head.

Aberforth knew that he was old when his knees creaked after standing up. He wished that he did not have to go downstairs and face the specter of uncertainty. Even if Albus wanted to travel the world, he must know that Ariana could not go with them. Her condition was too unstable and her disposition too frail. Even his genius older brother must recognize it.

It wasn't that Aberforth was completely devoid of pity for Albus's situation. It was just that he gave up the right to have around-the-world adventures when he forced him to finish his education at school. He doubted that his orders had little to do with his magnanimous—more likely he did not want to be embarrassed by a dumb little brother.

He turned to go. "I love you, Aber."

"I love you too, Ariana." She caught his sleeve.

"And Albus?" Imploring eyes beseeched him.

"Of course he loves you." He adjusted his collar. No point in bothering her with petty semantics and exactly what was love when it came to Albus Dumbledore. He glanced at her from under his eyelashes. She had a vaguely displeased expression on her face.

A light sigh. "I love him too."

She nodded, vaguely pleased.

He made as if to close the door. "Aber, wait," she bolted straight up, her eyes somewhat unfocused. "W-would you mind telling me my story?"

He leaned back on his heels _hmm_ ing and _haw_ ing. He really needed to set the two straight downstairs. "I'm sorry but I really need to finish talking with Albus." And make sure this never crops up again, he mentally added. He stepped backwards again.

"Beasts and dragons capture princesses, right?" She reached out towards him even as she snuggled deeper into her bed.

"Yes." He said. Might as well entertain her. She would keep getting up throughout the night if he didn't at least appease her a bit.

"And knights go and rescue them from them, right?"

"Of course."

"Why do they do that?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"It's not like they are sure they will win," she reasoned. "The monsters can kill them. Sometimes even very easily, I imagine. And I don't always think they don't know the princesses very well." She braided a slight wisp of her hair.

"What exactly are you asking, Bluebird?"

"Why do they rescue people they hardly know?"

"Ariana, you love me and Albus, don't you?"

She paused and looked up, earnest. "More than anything in the world."

He allowed that to warm his heart for a second. The candle on by her bedside lit half of her face with a diffused warm glow—the other halt was cast in shadow. Her rose-coloured lips were parted in a barely-there smile. "Well," he began slowly, "for some people, there are some things worth dying for."

She didn't respond, one sparkling azure eye slowly blinked then closed. She sighed as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "Yes," she breathed, "So many things..."

She was asleep before he blew out the candle and closed the door firmly behind him.

He wishes he could have had the chance to tell her her story one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, read and review!


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